Harry Potter and the Vial of Immortality
by Krianne-chan
Summary: **CHAPTER FOUR** An even MORE unexpected twist! Review please :D I need 30 reviews to continue this :D
1. The Incessant Tapping

AN: Hi! Actually, this is my first Harry Potter fanfic. Although I've been a fan of the book for the longest time. :) I love Harry and Oliver Wood, although I think Hermione's character is absolutely brilliant! Soooo... tweetums and hugglies all done? Humm... you may think Hermi's OOC (Out Of Character) but this change is due to events that occured in my other fanfic "A Christmas Night". which will be placed here soon, okay? I hope you like this story! This is dedicated to all Harry Potter fans. My contribution to the growing library of fanfiction. :) Toodles! 

*BTW, whoever Hermione will end up with in this story is still undecided. Right now, I'm opting for Harry, but if someone debates hard enough for anyone else, please.. erm... speak your mind! :)* 

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all related names are all the work of JK Rowling and I claim no ownership over any of it, except my Vial of Immortality. :) 

**Harry Potter and the Vial of Immortality**

**Chapter One – The Incessant Tapping**

Tap. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

The boy in the smallest bedroom at 4 Privet Drive turned away from the window. His head was aching. Not from the foreboding feeling he got whenever the Dark Lord was near. No. His head ached horribly because of that dreadful tapping noise something was making at his window. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

Why wouldn't it stop? Didn't it know that ignoring it was his absolute intention? 

Tap. 

Tap. 

......... 

Ah, finally. The blasted tapping ceased. Finally he could have some peace and... 

Taptaptaptaptaptaptap! 

Startling awake at the drill-like noise, a boy with unruly black hair pulled away his sheets quickly, reached out for his glasses on the bedside table and stumbled out of bed to the window. He rubbed his brilliant green eyes and put on his glasses before the picture before him focused properly. "Hedwig?" he yawned, unlocking the latch. Sure enough, his snowy white owl, along with two other owls, was the culprit, tapping the window impatiently. "Alright, alright, hush. You don't want to be waking Uncle Vernon, don't you? Get inside, quickly." She flew inside the room, followed by a small white owl with black streaks and Pigwidgeon. 

Pig created such a ruckus, Harry Potter was almost sure that his portly uncle would break down his door and kick them all out. What a way to spend his sixteenth birthday. Out on the streets with three owls clucking at his heel. But fortunately, the snores coming from the other side of the room continued. 

Sighing, he finally stuffed Pig into Hedwig's cage, not pleasing her at all. When he reached in to pull the package from her foot, she nipped his finger rather un-affectionately. "Ouch!" he winced. "What a birthday greeting." She turned away from him and ruffled her feathers. Shaking his head, he grabbed the letter from Pig and the other owl. 

Harry sat down on his bed after he put the latch back when the small owl had left. Staring at the envelopes strewn on his bed, he lay against his pillows and sighed. Another year gone by. Voldemort was still at large, wrecking havoc and terror all over the wizarding world, even killing stray muggles that happened to witness his executions. 'I'm lucky to have even reached my sixteenth birthday.' he thought. 

He shook his head and chuckled. Yes he was indeed lucky to still be alive. "Happy birthday Harry," he muttered to himself, a smile spreading across his more matured face. Yes indeed, Harry had grown. Weeks of toiling on the Quidditch field did wonders for his scrawny build and he had nearly caught up with Ron in terms of height, although his red-haired friend still towered over him by two inches. His hair however, still refused to behave, no matter how hard Harry tried to discipline it. 

He picked up the package that Pig had carried. An emblem of two wands with confetti shooting out of it crossed over two Ws told Harry that he had just received a package from Weasley's Wheezes, George's and Fred's joke shop in Hogsmeade. They had told him they set up in Hogsmeade because of the great profit they could earn, but in truth, they wanted to be nearby to watch over Ron and Ginny, the remaining Weasely siblings in Hogwarts. And of course, they would still visit their old school for the Quidditch matches, still supporting the Gryffindor team, which Harry now captained. 

He smiled again and ripped open the envelope on top of the box. 

_Harry,_

_Happy birthday! How is your summer? Are the muggles treating you well? Anyway, if they aren't, Fred and George gave this to you "just in case". It's bloody brilliant Harry! They'd have been sorry to have messed with you. It's full of- wait, Fred and George told me not to tell you. It's a surprise they planned for you!_-- Harry stared uneasily at the innocent looking white cardboard box-- _Anyway, my gift is inside as well. It's under all the--oh crud! I can't tell you that as well! Blimey, they still are pains to live with. Anyway Harry, hope you like it._

_We owled Dumbledore to ask if it was safe for you to come visit us this summer _("Oh please let it be alright," Harry pleaded silently) _Unfortunately, he reckons it's still unwise for you to travel to any distance, big or small. Next time then?_

_We'll be going to Diagon Alley the day before the term starts. Hope to see you there!_

_Ron_

Disappointed, Harry let out a sigh. Shame he couldn't visit the Burrow. He had always enjoyed his summer visits to the Weasley household. He wondered how Mr. And Mrs. Weasely were doing. And how Percy's job at the Ministry of Magic was coming along. Somehow, he had an eerie feeling that Percy would one day be Minister of Magic, a job so highly coveted by the studious Weasely brother. He shuddered at the thought. 

Harry opened the package and smiled. They had given him a Weasley Wheezes Kit for Obese and Naughty Cousins. Chock-full of Ton-Tongue Toffees, Cockroach Clusters, Acid Pops and dozens of multicolored sweets that Harry wouldn't dare sample, this would surely make the summer more manageable. How Harry wanted to "accidentally" leave them on the ground for his greedy cousin to gobble up. Imagine the look on his face when he popped an Acid Pop into his wide mouth. Unfortunately, the image of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's furious faces as they tossed him out of the house banished any intention of Harry's to give Dudley a "taste" of his own medicine, so to speak. Underneath the Weasley Wheezes Kit was another box. In messy handwriting, it read: Weasley Wheezes Kit for Aspiring and Great Wizards Such as Ourselves. It was filled to the brim with Chocoballs, Chocolate Frogs, Sugar Quills and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, with a few Filibuster's Firecrackers on the side. 

Rummaging around, he finally uncovered Ron's gift. It was a pair of Chuddley Cannons' bedsheets and pillowcases, very much like Ron's, only black, with orange lining. Tucked into the folds was another note from Ron: 

_Harry,_

_I know you like the Cannons as much as I do! Happy summer (I hope)!_

_Ron_

Harry could never like the Cannons as much as Ron did. Frankly, he would never like the Cannons at all. He never understood why Ron idolized them. Nevertheless, he placed them at the foot of his bed and reminded himself to change his sheets first thing in the morning. 

Lastly, he carefully opened the envelope that the small white owl had brought in. It bore the Hogwarts seal on the front, and Harry knew this was his enrollment letter, reminding him about September 1st at Platform 9 3/4. Harry's chest tightened. It was then that he realized how much he yearned to return to Hogwarts. It was the safest place in the world, because Voldemort was afraid of Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster and Harry's mentor. Not only that, but when he left Hogwarts last year, he left his friends and schoolmates, not to mention his favorite game in the world, Quidditch. But he always banished that thought and reminded himself that he would be returning the following term. At least, for another year. 

Everyone who knew Harry knew he was miserable every summer, except when he could spend it at the Burrow with the Weasely's. The Dursley's were, as Harry put it, "absolutely impossible" to live with. Although they acted much better now that they knew Harry had a murderous godfather at his beck and call, they still acted quite mean to Harry. 

Harry sighed. This is all Pettigrew's fault. He should be in Azkaban, not Sirius. Sirius Black was an innocent unjustly accused of a horrendous crime that Pettigrew committed. He had blown up half a busy street, killing several Muggles and then scurried away, as a rat. He had even posed as Ron's pathetic pet rat, Scabbers, for the longest time, before Sirius had escaped from Azkaban and revealed that this man had been responsible for the death of his parents. They had been ready to bring him to the Dementors, when Remus Lupin, their professor, had begun his transformation to a werewolf. Before that, Harry was ready to move out of the Dursleys and into a house with Sirius. 'If only we hadn't let go of Pettigrew, Voldemort would not have been able to rise, Sirius would be free… and I'll have a family…' 

He shook his head. He really should stop this habit of his. It does not do to dwell on dreams, Dumbledore had told him, many years back, during their first year, when he found him whiling the night away before the Mirror of Erised. "There is nothing you could do, but look forward to your future and hope for the best. Then, after everything is over, you could look back and smile," Hermione had assured him, late one night, during one of their midnight talks. 

He reached for a beautifully wrapped package, the last one. It was bright green, with a copper ribbon encircling it. Not wanting to destroy the attractive wrapping, he carefully untied the bow and unwrapped it. A letter fell into his lap, along with a handsome mahogany album. He opened the letter. The album was from Hermione: 

_Dear Harry,_

_Hullo! How is your summer? I hope those Dursleys are treating you well. If not, then I'll just have to curse them. Mind you, I've got half a mind to. Unfortunately, I listen to the other half more often. Ha! That was a joke, need you ask. I'm becoming funnier by the minute, like you suggested, dear Scarface. Gods, I can't believe I'm actually writing these things. Hang on, I'm getting off track. Here's wishing you, Harry Potter, one of my best friends, a brilliant sixteenth birthday. I hope we'll still be friends until your one hundred and seventy-fifth, or even 'til our three-hundredth! And I know you're asking the same question running through my head. Of course we'll still be alive then! We're the most boring people on earth. We haven't got a sense of adventure enough for us to go on hair-raising escapades like going through the trapdoor to come face-to-face with a possessed professor, finding the Chamber of Secrets and defeating a basilisk, going after a man knowing fully well he's an escaped convict from Azkaban and then finding out that he's innocent after all, and participating in the death defying Tri-Wizard Tournament and winning! Ha! Another pun! Jiminy crickets, I'm killing myself! _(At this point, Harry was rolling his eyes in exasperation. Hermione could be the most sarcastic witch in all of Hogwarts if she put her mind to it.) 

_And by the way… technically, we could still be alive then. Wizards and witches have a longer life span than ordinary Muggles. Dumbledore's three hundred and fifty-six, did you know that? Ha! There is some good to reading Hogwarts, a History then! Anyway, Ron told me you couldn't come to the Burrow. Quite unfortunate, but it is for the best you know! I would have asked you to come over to our house, but you weren't allowed to go over to Ron's, much less spend a week or two at the most-brilliant-Muggle-born-witch-to-ever-go-to-Hogwarts's house then. Oh well. A pity, definitely._

_I do hope you enjoy your present. I owled Colin Creevey constantly the whole summer asking for our snapshots. I reckon he thinks I fancy him. Rubbish, absolutely preposterous rubbish! I'd rather… well, I wouldn't tell you what I'd rather do, just know that it does not involve him!_

_On a serious note, I do wish you could have spent a few weeks at our humble abode. I miss you loads. I have so much to tell you, and I know there's much you have to tell me. Don't worry. September 1st is looming closer, and so am I._

_Love,_   
_Hermione_

_PS_   
_I've already gone to get my things at Diagon Alley because I'm going on a little trip on the last weekend before the start of the term. So I won't be seeing you until then._

_PPS_   
_I've discovered something, but I can't tell you what it is right now. I'll tell you when I see you. It concerns You-Know-Who._

He reread the last sentence and quirked an eyebrow. Voldemort? What did Hermione discover? Shaking his head, he resigned himself to the fact that he would find out on September 1st and not any sooner. 

Harry flipped through the album. There were pages and pages of pictures of the three of them together, of Harry and Ron, of their other friends and classmates at Hogwarts. Waving frantically at him, their faces smiling reminded him that he did have a family at Hogwarts. At the very last page was a picture of Hermione playfully hugging Harry. Beaming up at him, they played around in the photo. Below it, in gold script, Hermione wrote: Scarface and Frizzhead, Friends Forever! He smiled. Their codenames for each other. They only used these when they teased each other, and neither took them seriously. 

No one could understand him the way Hermione did. Not even Ron. Ron never knew of those times Harry had felt so alone, so weak… so scared. It wasn't that he didn't want him to know… it's just that… he wouldn't understand. Hermione knew and understood very well. She knew just by sensing him. Ever since Christmas last year, they had become closer than ever to each other. He had always looked forward to their nightly chats where he told her of his day and she told him of hers. They told each other everything, absolutely everything. Their hopes, dreams, fears, triumphs, failures, insecurities... They would never ever keep a secret from each other. They felt horrible about keeping things from Ron, but they felt comfortable and safe, knowing that their exchanges never left either of their mouths. 

Picking up a quill and a few spare parchments, he scribbled down a few short notes. 

_Ron,_

_Thanks for the present! Although I must beg to differ. NO ONE will ever like the Cannons as much as you mate. Would you mind thanking Fred and George for me? Unfortunately, I can't use their Weasely's Wheezes Kit on Dudley. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would be fuming. Smoking at the ears, most probably! But their other present is greatly appreciated, thanks! Anyway, it's too bad I can't visit the Burrow this summer. How is your mum and dad? Percy gotten a new promotion? How is Ginny? Heard from Bill and Charlie lately? I've wanted to practice the new Quidditch techniques I've been developing with you. Have you kept in shape Keeper? I reckon I could do with a few training sessions. Blimey, wouldn't Oliver be proud? I'm sounding more and more like him every year._

_Anyway, thank you for the present. I reckon I can make it to Diagon Alley a day before the term starts. I'll see you at the Leaky Cauldron!_

_Harry_

After signing his name on Ron's letter, he rolled it up and attached it to Pig's foot. "Go," he whispered to Pig hurriedly, trying to get rid of the overexcited bird as quickly as possible. Pig hooted, flapping his wings noisily and creating a racket before flying out the window into the silent night sky. He sighed, thankful to be rid of the owl, then sat back down to begin his reply to Hermione's letter. 

_Frizzhead,_

_Sorry, can't write much. I believe I'm going to fall asleep right here and now. By the way, your sarcasm is bowling me over. I can't believe such sincerity pours out of you._

_Thank you for the present. I loved it. Colin Creevey huh? I didn't know your preference was for younger boys. I can accuse you of being a pedophile. Seriously, I did love it. And I will treasure it for the rest of my life. And where did you get such a great picture of the two of us? Was that the one Ron took last Halloween? I think it was; there's still some chocolate on your cheek. Yes, I believe so.___

_It really is too bad that I can't visit Ron's. I wanted to test some new techniques that I've been planning to use during the season. And don't you roll your eyes. You know you like watching Quidditch as much as Ron and I love playing it. And I am truly sorry for not being able to visit you either. (Yes, Hermione, that is a sincere statement, whether you think so or not.)___

_You're not going to Diagon Alley with Ron and me? It's too bad... a trip eh? Fancy a visit to Bulgaria to see Krum? No really... where are you going? And what is it about Vol, I mean, You-Know-Who that you've found out? Blimey that's a lot of questions.___

_I'll be seeing you at the Platform on September 1st... take care Herm!___

_Love,_   
_Harry___

Harry finished the letter as soon as he could. He wasn't lying when he said he was falling asleep. Trying to entice Hedwig to deliver it for him, however, took much of his discipline and self-endurance. After parting with a civil farewell, Hedwig hooted softly and soared out the window. With a relieved smile, Harry finally closed the latch to the window, climbed into bed, and settled for a peaceful night's rest. 

He hoped.   



	2. Ambush

AN: Hullo hullo! This is the next installment to this story. I hope that you've enjoyed the story so far. Don't worry; I have a plot thickening in this head of mine, and it'll come out sooner or later. Patience dear friends. ? Anyway, there is finally some action and story build-up in this chapter! :D *yay*! Anyway, Hermione here is talking out of friendship for Harry dear! Not love or anythin, though it is possible... but I haven't decided you I wanted for Hermione yet... please review! I'd love reviews! Reviews give me energy to write more! 

Am I blabbering? Sorry ^_^! Anyway, on with the story! 

DEDICATION: To my Harry Potter-fanatical friends in class: She, Katrin, Mela, Rina, AC... I love you guys! Thanks for all your help! 

Disclaimer: All names related to Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, although I wish I could have Oliver Wood for myself ^_^! The Vial of Immortality is mine, because it plays a vital part of the development of the story. 

**Harry Potter and the Vial of Immortality**

**Chapter Two - Ambush**

Hermione looked up from the different books piling up on her desk. Two o'clock, already? She yawned widely, only dimly noticing that she had only gotten four hours of sleep. Crookshanks was sleeping peacefully on her bed. Brushing off the fact that she had dark rings around her eyes from the lack of rest she had been getting, she delved deeper and deeper into the book she was currently holding (Frequently Asked Questions in The Art of Dark Potion Brewing, Third Edition). Suddenly, she found the very paragraph she was looking for. 

_The Darker aspects of Potion-making originated in Devon, England, with the concocting of the Potion of Divinity. Comparable to Flamel's Elixir of Life, this substance is more coveted. When ingested, the potion can give you immensely great powers, but only used for evil, and can grant you immortal life. No one has been able to successfully brew the right combination of ingredients to produce the exact effect the Potion has been suggested to have. There is only one Potion currently in existence. Concocted by a alchemist's accomplice by mistake, he recognized the evil content of the substance and poured the liquid into a small vial, sealed it with a spell, and after burning the parchment that contained the procedure, fled. A conspiracy of wizards is reportedly searching for that Wizard Artifact, now known as the Vial of Immortality._

Hermione twirled the small, elongated pendant in her hand, watching the purple liquid dance from one end to the other. It was a stunning disguise. A piece of jewelry can easily be mistaken for the most highly coveted artifact in the wizarding world. Her fingertips gently grazed the single engraved word that had betrayed its identity to her. "Immortalidad," she whispered into the air. She shook her head. "You-Know-Who must be combing the entire world looking for this. Undoubtedly, he is behind the conspiracy that the book mentioned." Running a hand through her hair, she glared agitatedly. 

"I need to keep it safe until I reach Hogwarts," she determined. "I'll need to send an owl to Dumbledore, as soon as…" She tried stifling a yawn, but failed to do so. She yawned so enormously that Crookshanks woke up with a jolt. Hm… maybe tomorrow… Right now, however, what she needed to do was sleep. 

Ever since her Aunt Celeste came home from an archeological dig in Cairo three days ago and brought her the gift, she had only gotten approximately seven hours of sleep. "But this is more important," she said aloud, scolding herself for thinking such. She had known she had read about the Vial before—in one of her Potions textbooks she reckoned—she just couldn't pinpoint where she had. She was literally driving herself off her rocker. She would have gone mad if she hadn't found that tiny paragraph in that book just about now. 

If You-Know-Who had gotten this… she shuddered at the thought. He would surely try to kill Dumbledore and most definitely, Harry. She couldn't let him kill them. She couldn't bear to think of them out of her life, especially Harry, her best friend and confidante. No, they wouldn't die. 

Not when she could help it. 

She gasped as she heard the fluttering of wings behind her, and let out a sigh of relief when she saw the familiar snowy owl. "Hedwig!" she cooed, leaning in to stroke the bird's head. "What have you got there? I say…" She knelt down and released the owl of its burden. "My my, how quickly Scarface replies. He must be bored to tears, the poor dear..." 

Giggling softly, she tucked the necklace into her pajama top secretly and began to read Harry's letter. She was smiling the entire time. It was like he was actually there with her, sitting beside her, teasing her endlessly about the chocolate smeared on her chin. She loved how they were so comfortable with each other. The fond endearments, the jabbing jokes with each other, playing around in the common room, studying together... and of course, their late night shenanigans when they would stay up into the wee hours of the morning, talking and laughing about how ridiculous Professor Trelawney looked that morning in Divinations or complaining about the load of work Snape had piled on them just that afternoon. 

Oh yes, she and Ron and Harry were still best friends but... nothing could ever compare to the special bond that she and Harry had developed and built over the last year. They still hung out together, even after she and Ron decided to break off their relationship and just stay friends. Right now, it was like they never went out with each other, and Hermione was glad. Being uncomfortable was the worst feeling in the world to her, so she was glad with the outcome. 

Ron never really noticed the changes in Harry's and Hermione's friendship. Moreso, he never really thought about where Harry had been going every midnight. 'Probably thought Harry had to go to the washroom. My my, what a bladder problem Harry must have had,' she thought amusingly one day several months ago. 

She bared her soul to him, spilling out her problems and realizations. Why she had to be a top student, why she and Ron became an item and why they broke it off, why she was so bossy in their first year, why she was so insecure nowadays… what she thought of her fellow students and teachers, what she thought of Ron's new girlfriend, what she wanted to be when she grew up, what she felt whenever any of her friends, especially Harry, was in danger… and even after hearing all those things including her first impressions of him (a stuck-up snob who got everything he wanted) he listened. He even threatened to curse the bullies that terrorized her in her primary school. Of course he wasn't serious… or so she hoped. If they took one of those fashion magazine "How well do you know your best friend?" quizzes that Lavender and Parvati often took, they would have aced it. 

She sighed. She missed him. She missed him so much. The messy mop of black hair that she occasionally mussed up even more just to annoy him. Those green eyes that crossed in frustration whenever she explained the advantages of studying Arithmancy or discussed the rights of House-Elves. And his smile... the smile that was meant only for her. The smile that told her "Hermione Granger, you are my best friend in the whole world. I will always be there for you." Yes, that kind of smile. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger would stick together through thick and thin. 

No, she definitely wasn't going to let him die. 

Carefully folding the parchment, she placed it into her dresser drawer along with all the other letters she had received that summer. Strangely enough, the people who had sent her the most letters were Parvati and Lavender. 'And why, oh pray tell, are the sending you letters?' her conscience asked innocently. 

She reddened, 'Because I asked them for some fashion advice so I wouldn't look like such a nerd anymore.' She imagined her conscience snickering at her and she rolled her eyes. 'Really, they expect me to wear Muggle cosmetics and perfume... and curl my hair with a Perming Charm! How ridiculous! I've got half-a-mind to ignore all of their suggestions.' She peered into her dresser mirror and ran a hand through her hair. 'And besides, I'm thinking of having a Muggle beauty parlor straighten it. What do you reckon, eh?' She glanced at a framed picture of Harry and Ron on top of her dresser. 'Really, Harold James Potter, you think that I'll be taking a trip to Bulgaria on the last weekend before term starts when I'm really going to the Muggle parlor? You are such a mindless git.' 

Turning back to the snowy owl, who peered pensively at her. "Thank you Hedwig. You better go back home. Harry will be worried about you." Leading the bird to her window, she watched her soar through the sky, a bright vision against a blanket of night sprinkled with stars. She watched until Hedwig was merely a speck of white among the stars before she closed the window. 

She collapsed onto the bed, suddenly realizing how exhausted she was. Snuggling up to her crisp, white pillow that smelled lightly of jasmine, she pulled the blanket over her and tucked it under her chin. "Good night," she yawned, before she fell asleep, Crookshanks purring peacefully beside her after he had calmed down from his earlier shock. She drifted into slumber, excitedly counting the remaining day left until September 1st. 

She was so excited that she forgot to lock the latch to the window. Much to the malicious delight of the shadow lurking in the darkness of her house. 

* * * * * * 

A cloaked figure suddenly Apparated inside her room. Underneath the hood, he smiled sinisterly as he saw the young teenager, sleeping peacefully, dreaming of happiness and green meadows and peace and love… or any of such juvenile thoughts running through a Mudblood's brain. 

His Master's orders were simple. Bring her to him, and keep her alive. He ran a scrutinizing gaze over her sleeping form. Why a powerful wizard such as the Dark Lord needed such a frail-looking pathetic witch was beyond his line of questioning. After all, how was he to know how the most powerful wizard in the world thought? 

He brought out his wand and whispered a spell that made long ropes appear. Slowly, the ropes coiled around Hermione's still body, wrapping around her throat, her arms, legs and waist. Amazingly, she remained sound asleep until the ropes tightened suddenly, cutting off her circulation drastically. She awakened immediately, surprised and afraid. She gasped sharply at the instant pain. Her lungs clawing wildly for air, she struggled to remain conscious. But it was difficult. The ropes were digging into her skin, burning it; making her feel like her skin was on fire. Her chest was tightening torturously from the lack of air and her cheeks were tear-stained from the agony. She tried to scream but no words could come; she could only gasp and choke… 

It hurt. 

Make it stop. 

Harry… make it stop. Please save me Harry… 

"Petrificus totalus," a cold voice muttered. Her whole body stiffened and she couldn't move. Her eyes darted around frantically to try and alert anyone to no avail. But the ropes loosened to her relief and she could breathe again. Unfortunately her joy was short-lived. Suddenly she filled with a cold dread when she heard footsteps approach her bed. A body bent over her and she stared at the unfamiliar figure that was the source of her pain. He lifted his hand to cast another spell on her and she nearly fainted with fear. 

The Dark Mark. 

On his hand. 

Her heart pounded as he grinned maliciously at her. "Good night, Miss Granger." The rope tightened against her throat once more, and she slipped into darkness… 

* * * * * * 

The Malfoy home was furnished richly, as the Malfoy's were a well-off family and the study was no exception. Leather chairs, mahogany desks, polished bookshelves filled with dozens of books (The Guide to the Dark Arts, The Escapades of Ethlion the Evil, So You Want To Be A Dark Wizard? And others) and Persian rugs specially imported from an Iranian wizard. Usually, this was Lucius' office. But tonight, it was the meeting place of Voldemort and himself. 

Lucius Malfoy looked up as he heard the soft knock on his study door. He cursed under his breath. "What is it?" he hissed. "Who's there?" He stood up impatiently and took brisk steps to the door. He told Narcissa and Draco to leave them alone. They were discussing some important business and interruptions were greatly discouraged. He flung open the door and stared hard at the intruder. 

"Farrely." 

"Mr. Malfoy," the middle-aged man replied curtly. 

"You were expected back hours ago," Lucius retorted hotly. "Lord Voldemort will not be amused at your lack of punctuality." 

"I will be the judge on how to handle my followers Lucius," a cold voice murmured. They turned to the tall, robed man sitting in a high-backed leather chair. His scarlet eyes narrowed cruelly and a grave smile played on his thin lips. Farrely swept into a low bow and grunted, "Master. I apologize for my tardiness. I assure you that it will not happen again." 

"Make sure it doesn't Farrely. Time is of the essence," Voldemort chuckled tonelessly. His mirthless laugh sent shivers down their spine. They feared him. He was too powerful, too wise to be called human. 

And that was what he wanted. To be feared, respected and obeyed. How long had he wanted to reach this level of power. If it weren't for that Potter boy he would have achieved that feat long ago. But he shouldn't think about that now. He would make Harry pay, oh yes, he would pay, a very high price. A life for a life. He would be getting all the benefits of the Potion, and he could finally overcome Dumbledore, that bumbling idiot Fudge and all his minions and the Dark will rule. Stomp out all the Good and the Muggles and Mudbloods. They did not deserve the knowledge that they had acquired in Hogwarts. Soon, he would rule over them all. And Hermione Granger was the key to that. "Where is she? I would like to meet the infamous Miss Granger," Voldemort stated impatiently. He stared hard at Farrely. "Retrieve her." 

Farrely obeyed, stood up and walked out of the room. 

"I still don't understand why you needed to waste your time with kidnapping that friend of Potter's," Lucius snapped bitterly. Voldemort smiled, "Patience Lucius. You will know soon enough. Ah, here she comes now." Farrely re-entered the room, carrying the limp body of Hermione Granger in his strong arms. She was relieved of the Full Body Bind, yet she was still unconscious. Her lips were tinged with blue from the cutting of the circulation. If not from the faint rise of her chest, she would have been assumed dead. 

Voldemort stood up. So this was she. The best friend of his enemy. How easy it was, to just kill her right then and there. It would be absolutely mortifying to Harry that his mortal enemy had killed his best friend. He chuckled. How tempting that sounded. To cause Harry as much pain as he had caused him. Yet, this Mudblood knew something. Something that he needed. Something that he had failed to retrieve several years ago. Now, it would be his. 

Hermione opened her eyes slowly. She felt strange. She couldn't feel her arms and legs and her throat was raspy. She wondered why… Her sight cleared up and she realized she wasn't in her own home. If I'm not at home, where am I? She felt arms around her that made her stiffen. Slowly, her brain started to function properly. Memories of the previous night flooded her brain and she froze. 

"Mudblood," a voice spat out. It was cold, unforgiving, merciless. She was spoken to with utter disrespect and vile contempt. It was a voice only described to Hermione during one midnight talk that caused Harry to cry on her shoulder. Only this time, Hermione was the one having to face it. How badly she wanted to cry into someone's shoulder right now. 

She was dropped onto the floor quite abruptly. She wanted to scream as her body met a hard, carpeted floor, making her already weak bones weaker. When she looked down, she saw a long black velvet robe, much like the ones that Hogwarts students used. Except it was the cloak that belonged to-- 

"You-you… it's you." Hermione choked out, her breath backing up in her lungs. The pasty face, the cruel red eyes that flashed, the slits for nostrils and the unforgiving smirk… that was how Harry told her Voldemort looked like. Hermione knew what Harry felt. The fear at his smirk, knowing what he'll do will often lead to pain--a lot of it. Maybe even death. She shuddered, but forced herself to remain calm. She would stand up to him, just as Harry had two years ago. Then. And only then, could she be really worthy of Harry's friendship. 

It was never an issue between them, but Hermione felt that Harry could have had much better friends instead of her. People like Ron, the Weasley twins, Seamus, Dean… but he had chosen her and Ron and that flattered her. But she had always felt that she should make up for it by showing she was just as good as he was, through academics. That was why she had to be a top student all the time. When she told Harry this, he brushed it off and said, "You'll always be great Hermione, whether you fail every subject or top them. We are always worthy of each other's friendship." 

"Me, books and cleverness--there are more important things. Friendship and bravery… and Harry, just be careful." She had uttered those words to him five years ago, on the day that he was about to meet Voldemort in the third floor corridor. She wished she could have some now. Especially the bravery part. 

She pulled herself together, and heaved herself off the floor. "What do you want with me?" Hermione whispered, glaring at the tall man--if you could call him a man. Then suddenly, it hit her. He wants the Potion… she realized with a jolt. Well, he's not going to have it. Not if I can help it. 

He snarled, "I think you know what I want, you Mudblood." 

She gulped nervously, "I don't know what you're talking about. You're insane." Lucius and Farrely's eyes widened at the insolence the girl had shown to the Dark Lord. They both stepped forward, wands raised, to curse the girl, but Voldemort help up his palm. "No. This is our discussion, Lucius, Farrely. Not yours." He glared at them and they shrank back. But they still held their wands in their grasp, and they both glared at Hermione. 

Voldemort looked down at the short girl. She has nerves to stand up to me knowing I can kill her in seconds. Unless… she thinks I cannot kill her because she has the Potion. He chuckled. This was too simple. He needn't even cast the Avada Kedavra… at least, not yet. All she needed was a little… persuasion. "You are so full of bravery Granger. Much like young Harry. I recall hearing that he is your best friend." 

She reddened with anger, "Don't you ever do anything to hurt Harry! I won't tell you anything! I won't give you anything! You… you… murderer!" 

He threw back his head and laughed. A horrible high-pitched laugh that scared her, frightened her. "Call me a murderer if you want Granger. I prefer the term extinguisher. It is my role to extinguish all the Good, the Muggles and the Mudbloods. That includes you, your friend Ron and of course, Mr. Potter. Maybe you will change your mind if he accidentally got hit with the Avada Kedavra?" 

She paled considerably, "You wouldn't…" 

He held up his wand and it crackled ominously. "Do you really think I wouldn't? I've killed hundreds of people and I will not halt at the call of a sixteen-year-old Mudblood." 

She glared. "What makes you so sure I have what you want? I don't even know what you want." She had to stall… she had to… otherwise, it would be the end… 

"Oh I'm perfectly sure that you know what I want," Voldemort raised his wand and shouted "Imperio!" before Hermione had the chance to escape. 

* * * * * * 

AN: Ooh! Wicked! Finally some action! Anyway... review puhwees! :D 

And btw! Thanks to all who reviewed the first chapter! 

**aquamanda** - you like H/H too? ^_^! Same here! I really am leaning onto the HH side but if someone persuaded me... 

**Lord of All Magic And Necromancy - **I'm glad you liked Hermione in this story. I like her too. Sarcasm suits her, doncha think? 

**...catnyeggy... - **She! Heheh! Thanks for reviewing the story... don't worry, you're coming up soon... 

**Mela028 - **Akiiiiii-chaaaaaan! ^_^! Thanks for reviewing! Glad you liked it... took you long enough to read it! :D Heheh! 

Hopefully expecting more reviews next time? Next Chapter Three: Torture 

PS... If you're wondering how Hermione got the necklace, it will be further explained in the later chapters.   



	3. Conversations with a Malfoy

AN: Eep! This is going to be a difficult chapter to write… L I hate torture scenes! Hermione's Aunt Celeste's story will come out next chapter, not in this one unfortunately. This is not going to be one of those stories that several things pop-up without any real reason. Farrely is not one of those enter-and-exit characters… oh wait I'm telling you too much! :D Anyway… enjoy the story! Comments, suggestions, Chocolate Frogs, anyone? 

Disclaimer: Anything here, except the Vial of Immortality and Farrely, belong to Ms. JK Rowling, the most brilliant author we Muggles have ever seen! :D 

**The Vial of Immortality**

(Notice the title change? I changed it because I don't think it is a "Harry Potter and the-" kind of book... I mean, Harry's not even the one narrating most of the time... :D so it's best I change it.)

**Chapter Three: Conversations with a Malfoy**

He was wasting time. Obviously, he would not be able to have the pleasure of watching her admitting to having the Potion. He raised his wand and watched Hermione give a small cry of alarm. "Imperio!" He snarled. His wand sparkled to life as the spell was cast. 

She felt light-headed, just like she had during Mad-Eye Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes two years ago. Actually it wasn't Mad-Eye, but Barty Crouch, Mr. Crouch's son, taking the Polyjuice Potion to look like Mad-Eye Moody. It was so strange feeling like this again. She knew it was forbidden to use this curse, or any curse for the matter. She was trying to remember what the Ministry of Magic would do when someone was caught doing this to another human being when she felt someone talking, whispering orders into her mind. 

Someone was prying into her mind, trying to tell her what to do. She tried to shut it out and recall what she had to do. Stall… stall… her brain persisted. 

Give it to me Hermione… give me the Vial of Immortality that hangs around your neck… a raspy, quiet voice told her. Quiet, yet commanding, persisting… she shook her head. She remembered Harry's happy face and Ron's encouraging smile. Dumbledore's merry twinkle, Professor McGonagall's stern but matron-like face. Her parents proud grins and Hagrid's gruff expression. Sirius, Lupin, Ginny, Parvati, Lavender, Neville, Seamus, Dean… all her friends. She wouldn't let them down… especially Scarface. I will not… give in… to you. I owe Harry… that much… 

You FOOL! His voice boomed and he cackled madly, laughing louder and louder. She covered her head at the reverberations that echoed. You are killing Harry with all this stalling. The more you stall, the more time passes, the more pain I will inflict on him… you owe Harry everything, yet you are going to be the death of him. But you could just succumb and you will be Harry's savior. All I ask of you is that pendant hanging on your neck. Give it to me… 

I… I… no… no! 

GIVE IT TO ME! He roared, causing her to cry out. He was destroying her brain, killing brain cells with every passing second that he controlled her, torturing her with mind games. Yet she eluded his control every time, confounding him and angering him greatly. She recovered quickly, reasserted her hard expression and glared at him. I will never. 

Voldemort growled, losing all control, and raised his wand, "Crucio!" Suddenly, she doubled over in pain, sinking to the floor in shock. The agony coursed through her veins, pounding into her ears and making her scream. She was sweating profusely from all the effort of defying Voldemort and all this pain… it was killing her. It seared through her bones, white hot, raw, severe and pouring into the very muscle and tissue and casting its horrible spell on her aching joints. Her head throbbed with anguish and she buried her head in her hands, in a futile attempt to shield it from the pain. She sobbed freely, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. They were red with anger, embarrassment and helplessness… angry because he was getting to her, embarrassment because she had almost given in and helplessness because she was being hurt by the Dark Lord. She was going to be murdered by the Dark Lord. 

This was worse than the ropes. 

She hated this feeling of anguish and cruelty. But what she hated more was that Voldemort relished in her screams, her shouts of pain. It was already proof to him. She was weak and would be easy to kill, easy to overcome, easy to control, to manipulate. Well, she was going to show him. Abruptly, she snapped her mouth shut and willed herself be subjected to this mindless torture inflicted upon her. Pain is all a figment of your imagination. Pain is merely a reaction in your nervous system that drives you to fear. Pains is just a message from your senses to your brain telling you to scream out loud for mercy, flinch in fright and cower in trepidation. Pain can be withstood. It's all in the mind. All in the mind... 

Hermione enjoyed tests. She always thought of them as questions to their capacity to understand and to learn. So she convinced herself that this was merely one more test. The ultimate test. 

Minutes passed slowly, like the trickling sand in an hourglass. Ten minutes later, she was still kneeling on the floor. Her screams had reduced to slight, short gasps, and the tears had already dried, creating rivers on her cheeks. She clutched herself, hugged herself, scratched herself, drawing blood from the wounds her nails had opened. Red liquid seeped out slowly, contaminated with the evil of the spell. But she did not scream anymore. She resisted it all. She concentrated on intercepting the transmissions of the nerves to her brain. 

Suddenly, Voldemort raised his wand, and the agony slowly ebbed away. "Why do you resist? Why suffer that much when all you have to do is give me the vial? Is a simple Potion worth all of this? This wretched horror? This excruciating agony? Tell me, Mudblood, tell me why." He could not understand how so much mental ability could be found in this young woman. She didn't look like the type who could stand the simple pain spells, nevertheless the Unforgivable Curses. There was more to this young woman than that which met the eye. 

The door creaked open and Lucius' head snapped in its direction. A pale-haired young man was standing in the doorway. "Draco!" Lucius hissed, beside himself with rage. "Go to your room and stay there! I told you not to come barging in here!" Draco said nothing, just continued to stare emotionlessly at the scene before him. Hermione Granger, the Muggleborn friend of Potter and that Weasley, kneeling before a tall, robed figure of a man that Draco had been destined to meet ever since his father swore to become a Death Eater. 

"Good evening, young Malfoy," a voice called out to him from the direction of the man. Draco saw Hermione's head snap up from her stupor, and saw her glare at him. Ignoring the fiery hatred in her eyes, he nodded curtly at the figure. "Good evening, Lord Voldemort." 

"Bow!" his father ordered him. Yet, he ignored his father's angry orders and strode forward confidently. "Good evening Mudblood. What a pleasant surprise, seeing you… drop by. I trust you find the humble abode that I call my home accomodating?" He said this all with a hint of malice in his voice, but an unreadable expression in his eyes. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and spit in his direction. And she would have hit him, had he not stepped backward. 

"Tut, tut, Granger. How rude. How… typically Mudblood. Keep your filth off my floor, lest I do something I would likely regret," Draco replied, cool and as calm as ever, a platinum eyebrow raised in disgust. Hermione struggled to her feet, but collapsed in her weakness. "Wait until I get my hands on your grubby little face Malfoy, and you'll be sure I'd have gouged your eyeballs out!" 

Draco's eyes widened, then turned into slits of icy gray hatred. "With all due respect, Lord Voldemort, may I?" Without waiting for a response, he took three steps and slapped Hermione clear across her face. She sprang back at the stinging blow and automatically touched her cheek with her palm. She snarled in rage at him. Such ferocity was exchanged through their silent argument. Neither had to say anything, but their eyes glared daggers at each other. 

"Lord Voldemort, I would like to request your permission to handle this… difficult problem. May I speak to her privately?" Draco spoke in a calm tone, with layers of anger hidden underneath. "Maybe I can persuade her to tell us all about the Potion she so valiantly protects." 

Lucius, grabbed Draco's arm and yanked him away from the vicinity of Voldemort. "Such insolence—go—room—now!" he fumed, unable to speak with so much anger flooding his senses. How dare his own son defy the Dark Lord? He should not let this pass. He would be taught a lesson. The same lesson inflicted upon him every time he caused them any delays or burdens… 

"Stop, Lucius…" Voldemort's firm tone rang out, halting the older Malfoy in his tracks. "I rather like Draco's impertinence and rebellion. It makes him a true Death Eater. Let him handle the Mudblood. I must further discuss our plans for the next years to come. When the Dark overrules the Light, that is." He cast one more smile, one more hideous, cruel smile, in Hermione's direction, before walking out the door. 

Lucius looked hesitant to leave the two alone, but followed Voldemort out the door, Farrely at their heels. 

Farrely shook his head. Barking mad, Voldemort was. Sometimes, he wondered why he did this… He shook his head again and closed the door firmly. 

* * * * * * 

Draco inspected the doorjamb carefully, taking great care to make sure it was closed. He pressed the lock firmly and, hearing the soft click of the simple Muggle mechanisms, nodded, satisfied. Musn't let anyone through this door. Can't let anyone see what I'm to do… he shook his head and turned back to Hermione. 

He nearly shrank back at the obvious pure loathing, utter repulsion and blind repugnance expressed in her bright brown eyes, which were staring at him as he fixed the door. "If you think that for any reason that I will give this to you, you little ferret," Hermione said thickly. "I will—" 

"Stop talking Granger. We don't have much time," he snapped, then shook his head. She still held the cheek that he slapped with her right hand. Although she did not want to admit it, he knew that it must have stung quite badly. It was now turning a color of dark pink, contrasting greatly to her light complexion. Blood was smeared on her other cheek, and down her arms. She must have gone through a lot. He could have cursed Voldemort, had he the courage or the power to do so. 

He stepped towards her slowly, and brushed away a ringlet of chestnut brown away from her face. Her eyes widened with surprise and her mouth parted slightly with shock. What on earth was he doing? "It must have been very painful," Draco mused softly. Realizing their close proximity, his cheeks tinged pink and he turned away abruptly, coughing. 

"I've sent an owl to Dumbledore, telling him about the situation and to come and get you as soon as possible, so needn't worry about that," Draco told her, his harsh demeanor reasserting itself. "He will probably be here in approximately thirty minutes or so, so you should probably get ready and then—" 

"Malfoy, why are you doing this? You're risking your life and all..." her voice drifted off. Then she glared fiercely at him, "What's the catch? This is probably all part of Voldemort's plan, isn't it?" Draco stared at her incredulously and angrily. Of all the ungrateful witches... "If you can get it through that thickheaded skull of yours, Hermione, I am not just a vindictive, sly cur that you so passionately abhor, but a living, breathing, feeling human being with—get this—a soul! Now if you please, stop interrupting me?" 

Hermione felt the great urge to ignore the pain in her limbs and slap him silly. But maybe he was right... glowering, she crossed her arms over her chest, a gesture to show that she was listening. Draco nodded and continued, "I will give you my wand when Dumbledore arrives and you will Stun me, to make it look somewhat believable. Then, leave. Simple enough, isn't it?" He almost grinned at his joke. He was gambling off his family, his life, and his health... all to save Hermione. How simple was that? 

Her gaze became less hard and she shook her head, unbelieving, "Why are you doing this Draco?" She couldn't believe that of all people who had to come to her rescue it had to be Draco Malfoy, their nemesis and constant pain-in-the-arse. She had always thought of him as a snotty, conceited prat who got anything and everything he wanted. Malfoy was always jealous of Harry, in her opinion. Who wouldn't be? Smart, charming, responsible, brave, modest... even Ron admitted to her one time that he was terribly jealous of Harry's inherited fame and fortune. But she had convinced him to forget all about it; Harry was their friend, and that trait was the most important of the lot. 

Draco looked up at her, surprised, "You... you just called me Draco..." His gray eyes softened, "You're the only one to have ever called me Draco. From your house, I mean. I was so accustomed to hearing you say 'Malfoy' that..." He was flabbergasted that she had finally called him by his first name. He had never thought of seeing the day he would hear his name being uttered from her lips. He rather liked the way it rolled off her tongue, so eloquently, so effortlessly... he nearly smacked himself. You sound like a pitiful fool, Malfoy. 

Hermione gave him a small smile. "That's your name isn't it?" You have the urge to joke at a time like this? Her conscience questioned. But Dumbledore is already coming anyway so why not pass the time with a joke? Besides, I couldn't help it. Hermione answered. So you're saying you believe the git? 

Draco smiled and nodded, "Yes it is." He suddenly burst out laughing, rich and melodious peals of laughter bubbling out from his throat, making her forget who he really was. The stuck-up git who constantly called her obscenities and derogatory terms was really a human after all, underneath that skin that his father had painted onto him. She saw the way he regarded Draco. More like a servant rather than a son, if you asked her. She could see why he acted that way in school. He was a prisoner of his own father at home. 

Hermione smiled. Yes I do believe the git. 

He didn't know why he laughed. The joke was so old it practically screamed "Corny!" But the way she said it... the way she said it made him double over in laughter. He hadn't a good laugh like that in several years, ever since he got hit by the Tickling Curse a few years back. 

When he finally controlled himself, he smiled at her, forgetting all the times he had insulted her, almost hurt her. And Hermione let herself forget about it too. It looked like the beginning of a new friendship altogether. "I'm sorry... I lost control of myself back there," he apologized sheepishly. 

Hermione grinned, "It's okay. I'm used to people making fools of themselves. I've been friends with Harry and Ron too long to know that I am one myself." She paused and continued, "Seriously, Draco. Why did you do it? We haven't exactly been on friendly terms at Hogwarts, and heaven knows the animosity between you and Harry and Ron... so why Draco? Please tell me." She stepped closer to him, and subconsciously brushed her fingers against his. 

Draco looked down at their hands and then into her earnest cinnamon brown eyes, full of compassion, knowledge and serenity. They beckoned to him with an eerie sense of calmness to them. So sincere, so trusting... yet they were not innocent. Not anymore. They had lost its childlike demeanor the minute she laid eyes on Lord Voldemort. She had stared into the face of death, of despair, of the Apocalypse, and it was that moment she had beheld the face of a murderer. When he tortured her, called her names, brought her down to her knees... he had unknowingly stolen her quintessence, her very being, by throwing her into the world of reality, where pain and sorrow and betrayal dwelt. It had slapped her in the face, mocked her childish aspirations for a perfect world she had conjured up, where she had lived unafraid with her best friends and schoolmates and family for fifteen years, unknowing of the dangerous veracity of the truth. 

Her own best friend had been hurled into that dark abyss two years ago, on that fateful night after the Third Task, where he met face to face with Voldemort. He had been scared too, senseless probably. But that could not stop the realism from entering into his system, from giving him the knowledge he had tried so hard to ignore, the knowledge that Hermione had now given up on ignoring, the knowledge that had shaped Draco Malfoy into what he was, the hard, selfish unmoving young man they saw at Hogwarts. 

They had been touched by evil, experienced pain beyond anyone's belief and now, things wouldn't go back to normal. Their dream world had shattered, only leaving them to a harsh and cruel reality to survive in. They would have to finish what was started. The innocence was gone because they had finally abolished their belief that everything would be all right sooner or later. Because it wouldn't. Not unless they did something about it. 

"I did it mostly because I didn't want anyone to be treated like I've been treated for the past sixteen years of my life. I don't want anyone to suffer as I have. Especially not you Hermione..." his voice trailed off. Damn it! Why was this happening? His barrier of steely confidence and cruelty and callousness, the barrier that he had worked so hard to build on his father's orders in order to resist any attempts of friendship which his father thought to be weaknesses, in shambles because of one fleeting touch. His wall of calm that his father forced him to establish just so that he could remain merciless and unmoving just like him was crumbling because of a pair of scintillating cinnamon eyes that held so much, had seen so much, had felt so much. Just like him. 

They were so alike, yet so different. 

He never wanted his father to rule his life. But he had. And there was nothing he could do about it but submit and obey. It was his role as a son. As Louis IX said once, "A son cannot disobey his father." So was the principle he had been brought up on. Yet this was beyond comprehension. This was human cruelty, being tortured with pain-emitting spells. But his father believed this would shape him up to be the young man he wanted to become. A hard, disciplined, obedient son who would soon follow in his footsteps as the Dark Lord's right-hand servant. To hurt everyone in the path of Voldemort, maybe even kill them. He didn't want to do that, much as he loathed Mudbloods and Muggles. He had also adapted that principle from his father, yet he had one exception. 

He wanted to have been there for her, to make him go away and banish the pain that Voldemort had inflocted upon her. He wanted to make her feel better again, like she should always have been. She didn't deserve it. She did not deserve the cruelty of the spell. She hasn't done anything to hurt anyone. All she did was give, give, give. Give out her smiles to give laughter and joy, give out her knowledge to help and to prepare anyone, give out her compassion and empathy to comfort and console her loved ones. 

She was a rare creature, one he coveted without knowing. Wanted without realizing. She was beautiful. That was for sure. Although she was still small of stature, around a few inches smaller than him, she had grown a lot over the previous years. Why hadn't he noticed? Her frizzy and bushy mane had subsided into a thick froth of rich chestnut curls that tumbled freely over her shoulders, hanging down her back. She had the most brilliant pair of brown eyes he had ever seen, the color of cinnamon and chocolate and smiling, taunting lips that seemed always pursed in a disapproving manner, but what to him looked attractive. Her face had matured, yet retained its radiant aura of brightness and calm. That was what made her beautiful. She didn't need to put on slabs of make-up or down her hair in a tub of Skeezy's to be ravishing. She just... was. 

Hermione gazed into Draco's stolid gaze and wondered why she hadn't drowned yet. They were simply fascinating, absolutely enchanting, hard and cold, yet filled with a deep longing and a touch of warmth and mirth that he had so carefully hidden but she had plainly seen. And they were so tough, unbreakable, unwilling to let go of the skin painted onto him. It kept him safe, sane, who he was. A Malfoy. Yet she knew under that exterior, all he needed was a family, someone to care about him and love him unconditionally. Lucius Malfoy didn't seem to be doing that duty very well, not if he was subjecting his son to Cruciatius curses regularly. He was... such a little boy in so many ways. 

She almost laughed. Draco Malfoy being regarded to as a 'little' boy. Ten minutes earlier, you could have told her that and she would have laughed the pants off her arse. That vision was simply too unimaginable to think of. Yet she could see it clearly, visibly. He called out to her, imploring silently to be helped, begging to be released from his captivity as a Malfoy. He couldn't stand it any longer. And she longed to help set him free, to wrap her arms around him to embrace him, to tell him everything will be alright. 

Things would get better for him. 

Because things couldn't get any worse. 

They had been having a silent debate storming in their heads for what seemed like an hour but was only several seconds. They were arguing fiercely whether to trust each other or step away, whether to dissolve their stupid barriers of safety to tread upon the unknown earth of a friendship with each other. Or was it just friendship they wanted? 

All of a sudden Hermione colored slightly, "You just called me Hermione." She tried to lighten up the situation by retaliating, only she failed miserably. The moment she said that, Draco smiled and stepped closer. She felt his hand tilt her chin to face him and she was lost again in those eyes. Words betrayed her as her mouth parted slightly in surprise. She was speechless and startled. His finger traced upward, from her chin, up her jaw and finally resting on her smooth pink cheek. 

"I guess," said Draco in a soft, hushed voice, "I guess I did then, Hermione. That's your name isn't it?" 

She nodded slightly, then she smiled brilliantly at him. The smile which he loved and adored so much. He lost all control of himself then. Before he could pause to think about what she would have said, he had closed the seven-centimeter gap between their mouths. Their lips met for a millisecond, before they were interrupted by a loud 'harrumph'. 

Pulling apart at breakneck speed, they whirled around at the source of the sound, and saw Albus Dumbledore with the familiar twinkle in his eye gazing back at them with an amused expression on his withered face seated in a leather chair. The same leather chair previously occupied by Voldemort himself. 

AN: Whee that was fun! Sorry it took so long for this to come out! Have pity, I'm only fourteen. :D Happy Holidays everyone! Know what's the best gift you could give me? Reviews please!!! :D 

**Jacks - **No it's quite alright. Glad you like it :D 

**tess** - No problem! Here you go! 

**mariel4000 - **I think our life's goal is to kill Voldemort hehehe! Sorry about the cliffhangers, but what will get you to read my stories if there aren't any? 

**de - **I am too! Definitely! However, I just couldn't resist A D/Hr moment here... don't worry I'll try to keep it H/Hr! :D 

**sydney - **Thanks for your support! Hermione's change is for the better though, don't you think? 

**JudgeDP - **Well here you go then :D Happy reading!   



	4. The Proposition

AN: OoOoh I loved the reviews I received! Didn't know I could cause this much intrigue! :D Contrary to everyone's belief, this will not be D/Hr. I just did that for a bit of Holiday fun... I got the idea from a Recess fanfic that I read a few week's back. Draco and Hermione are only special friends, nothing more or less. Hope that clears up any confusion! And yes, the verdict is in. I will continue to pursue this fanfic as H/Hr. Hope this makes you all happy. 

Oh, and PS: Dumbledore is actually one hundred and fifty, not three hundred. My bad. 

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, items, places or spells except for Farrely, Aunt Celeste and Voldemort's leather chair. J 

Vial of Immortality 

Chapter Four: The Proposition 

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the chair that was previously occupied by Lord Voldemort. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy?" he said amusedly, his eyes crinkled into a smile. "Perhaps I have come at a bad time?" 

Hermione shook her head vehemently, "Oh no Professor, you weren't interrupting anything. We were just..." 

Draco caught on. "Yes, Professor, we were just..." 

"Professor it was nothing," Hermione blurted out firmly. She turned to look at him, widening her eyes as if telling him to agree with her. "Nothing at all," she repeated. 

Draco turned to her, eyes confused with disbelief. It was nothing? It was all just nothing to her? Shock had entered his system, followed by anger. His gray eyes flecked bright silver as he tried in vain to keep his emotions at bay. So that was it. It was a trick. Just a mere show. All she wanted was to pass the time and she had seen Draco Malfoy let down his guard and crumble. To become a blubbering idiot who joked with her, smiled with her, cared for her. She was too cruel. He tore his gaze away from her questioning gaze and he thrust out his jaw. Another unreadable expression clouded his face, which seemed to be either hurt or hatred, couldn't figure out which. 

"Professor," he spat out, the contempt showing in his tone. "You had better hurry. Father will be coming back soon." He nudged Hermione forward, though it looked more like a shove than a nudge, and backed away from them, towards the door. It was a good thing he faced the doorway, because he would have seen Hermione's frown of annoyance. Pressing his ear to the wooden door, he listened carefully for footsteps. He could hear none. Of course you git. They can Apparate in here. No need to waste energy by walking. 

"Right then," he said, straightening up. "Both of you must leave right away. Voldemort might be heading here this instant. It is best that you depart now." He said this all very quickly. His gaze strayed to Dumbledore, and although he saw several questions in the older man's eyes, he had nodded knowingly. "Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy is right. We must go." He steered her gently to face the fireplace. Taking a small drawstring pouch from his robes, he held it upside down and a sprinkle of particle-sized dust spilled onto his palm. Floo Powder, Draco noticed. 

"Destination is Hogwarts. I had my fireplace connected to the Floo Network momentarily." 

He tipped his hand gingerly and the powder gently sifted into Hermione's open hand. She stared at it blankly, too far gone to comprehend. The sudden change in Draco's personality was startling and unnerving. She was looking at a completely different person unlike the one who she had almost pitied just moments ago. Ha! Pity. That was it. A Malfoy did not need pity. He knew nothing but arrogance, evil and pain. And knowing that, she felt a gnawing feeling of guilt in her stomach. She shouldn't have disregarded him so swiftly. But he was being such a bloody prat that it wasn't difficult to forget that he kissed her. 

She turned to him and glared. "Goodbye Malfoy. See you at school." 

He snarled back, "Hurry along Granger and run to your Potty Weasels, lest I change my mind." 

She flung the powder into the fireplace with such anger that the fire roared. "Hogwarts," she told it hurriedly, still glaring at Malfoy. She disappeared in a blink of an eye, and when he turned around to tell Dumbledore to do the same, he discovered that he already had. 

Footsteps. 

He turned to the doorway and saw the doorknob rattling. He sank into a chair and crossed his legs, trying to look bored, as he heard an angry "Alohomora!" Lucius burst into the room and he glared at Draco. "Where is the Mudblood?" said Lucius, his voice on a line between stark-raving mad and cool-calm-collected fury. Either way it turned, it wouldn't be pleasant. 

Darco smirked and yawned. "Gone," he replied simply. 

What on earth was he doing? Confirming to his death sentence? It was better than living, he spat bitterly, remembering Hermione's disregard. Wait... why did he have to kill himself? Why did he have to mourn for her disregard for him? It shouldn't have affected him so. After all, all he did was help her escape. He just didn't want anyone to die on his favorite carpet. And shouldn't she have been grateful? The unappreciative wench. Come to think of it... he didn't even care about her in the first place. What caused his sudden shift to compassion and concern? Stress, he soothingly told himself. He was out of his senses. She didn't mean anything to him. He shuddered inwardly at the thought that he kissed her. Mental note, he told himself. Brush teeth if still alive later on. 

Him and a Mudblood? Disgusting. 

Lucius' eyes widened at first. Then they narrowed into thin slits. The fury in his eyes was evident. His mouth curled into a ghastly sneer and his fingers were twitching, as if they couldn't wait to get themselves around his throat. He raised himself to his full height and spoke, barely above a whisper. "And why did you do such a foolish thing such as that?" 

He gazed into his father's face and said, "I'd like to tell Lord Voldemort personally about what happened. If you don't mind, that is." He waned to make his father bristle, and he was doing quite a good job at it. Lucius was glaring at the boy like he wanted him to curl up and die. 

The door swung open again and Farrely swept into the room with an arrogant swagger. "What is this? Where is the girl?" He eyed father and son curiously. "Is something the matter, Lucius?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. Lucius turned to him. His expression was livid, and when he spoke, his voice quivered with what was unmistakably anger. "Ask the boy!" He didn't seem to want to refer to Draco as his son. 

Draco turned his unnerving gray eyes to Farrely's own cobalt blues and blinked innocently. "A question, Mr. Farrely?" He clasped his hands together and leaned into the chair. "Oh yes, I recall now. Where is the Mudblood? Well, obviously not here, right then?" The older man stepped back in surprise, before he realized what Draco had just said. He was about to respond when he heard the familiar flapping of robes and a cold-sounding growl. 

Farrely narrowed his eyes at the arrival. It was Voldemort. He didn't like him much. He was getting too arrogant for his own good. Too abusive and yet too innocent at the same time if that were possible. He thought he could take over the world with such candy-cane schemes like subjecting the girl to the Cruciatius Curse. Why, compared to the plagues they used to spread during the good old days, the Avada Kedavra would have been a wisp of smoke, only a tiny spell against a legion of the world's most powerful entities. 

He always got the bloody war-types. Why Farrely never got assigned to tasks such as the solemn evil that Galtom got to vanquish nor the seductive manipulators that Hammon claimed his specialty was beyond his knowing. By far the scariest he'd ever coerced into suicide was Adolf Hitler. Took him three bloody years to get even close to the maniacal git. The man had gone wonkers with the power they had offered him as a Vallamir, so they needed to terminate him immediately. But now, this guy was quickly climbing the charts. 

Voldemort thought that power was surging through his veins, when in truth they were mere puddles compared to the power Farrely had coursing through his. He was all talk, no action, except a few risings here and there, and that exaggerated business with the Mark in the air. He threatened people with curses and such, but rarely put any truth to it. Only sent others to do his bidding. A mark, perhaps, of a coward. He loomed over his minions and terrified them into submission. Farrely tutted. The fools. 

He admired the way this boy had been standing up to the Darkest wizard of his world. He had spunk and daring, that was apparent. He would have been an asset to their force. Maybe after all this was over, he could ask the Immortals for permission to train the boy as a Vallamir. Maybe... 

"Where is the Mudblood?" the low voice rumbled from beside him. Without turning to acknowledge the presence of his "master", Farrely muttered, "Ask the boy. He has something to tell you, it seems." He ignored the look of surprise on Voldemort's face and stared back at him impassively. Voldemort's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he turned to Draco. "Young Malfoy," he spat, "You are to inform me of where you have left the Mudblood?" More of a command than a question. 

Draco nodded, almost cheerfully. "I let her go." 

Voldemort stared at him, his expression anything but exhilarated. "What did you say? You let her go?" The reality of his words sunk in and his nostrils flared. "You let her go?" Draco rolled his eyes. "If I am not mistaken, yes, that is precisely what I said." 

Draco did not expect Voldemort to chuckle. He expected him to beat him up, curse him, kill him even, but no, he didn't expect him to laugh. "Tsk tsk, young Malfoy," Voldemort said, "You are foolish, surrendering your wrongdoing so easily. I thought this kind of experience would have brought out the evil in you. Instead, you have shown your true traitorous nature. Save your excuses and explanations. I have no need for them. But I will give you one last chance. If you can procure the girl in five seconds, I will kill you quickly and painlessly. It will be easier. If not... well, I leave that to be your decision." 

Draco continued to look expressionless into air. Damn, he was going to curse him. 

Voldemort snarled, baring yellowing teeth. "So you have chosen to die. A pity. So be it then." He glanced at Lucius and saw a stony coldness on the older Malfoy's face. "Even your father has abandoned you. How do you feel now, knowing you will be dying in a few seconds?" 

Draco yawned. "Are you done yet? Kill me now, any way you please. I think death will be better than listening to your endless prattle. That's all you do anyway. So go ahead, finish me off." Voldemort, enraged now, raised his wand and prepared to curse Draco into oblivion. Lucius stood next to his Master, a glint in his eyes stating his approval. Green light began to spark from the end of the wand. "Avada—" 

"Cronus Negato!" 

Immediately, motion stopped. The leaves stopped rustling, the birds stopped flitting, bees and wasps froze in midair. Winds ceased their blowing, fires halted their cracklings. Wizards were waking up, frozen while rubbing their eyes or bustling around the kitchens. Molly Weasley was stopped while she was opening her cupboard, searching for the book to prepare breakfast for the Weasely family. Harry Potter was seen in a nightmarish state of mind, his face twisting in pain at the Dark Lord's attempt to cast the Unforgivable Curse. 

Draco noticed that he, unlike the rest of the living, could still move. He moved quickly out of the way of the spell. As he realized who had cast the Timestopper spell, he turned to look at Farrely. "I knew you weren't what you seemed. Who are you?" Farrely gave him a lopsided smile, "If I told you, I would have to kill you." 

"Is that a threat?" 

Farrely shrugged. "You may call it so, but I prefer the term warning. Unlike your fellow Dark wizards, we like allowing the prisoner a chance to escape before terminating him completely." He walked around to look at Voldemort's face, frozen in a twisted expression of hatred. He clucked his tongue. "Yes, young Malfoy, I am not what I seem. You thought I was the follower, but in truth," he gave a cryptic, haunted smile, "I am one of the Masters." 

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I do not understand. Reveal yourself at once, or else—" 

"Or else what, young Malfoy?" Farrely interrupted him. "You'll hurt me?" He sniggered coldly, "I'm terrified." He crept closer to Draco, menacing and foreboding, and Draco's heart felt tiny twinges of fear. "Don't think for even a second that this sorry excuse for power can be called a lord. Even in my old age, I still have more power than all of your minions put together." 

"If you had more power than him, why did you enlist yourself as one of his followers?" Draco questioned, curiosity stirring. 

Farrely saw his impassive eyes glinting with some sort of interest. He smirked, "You still stand to ask me so insolently, knowing I can kill you with a wave of my hand?" 

Draco returned the smirk, "You have yet to put any truth to your threats. You will be no better than him if you don't show me the strength of your prowess." He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Farrely let out a low chuckle. "Oh you are cunning indeed, young Malfoy. But have not you seen the strength of my powers when I cast the Cronus Negato? Did you not read about this spell during your class?" 

"This spell is dangerous to perform, draining too much of one's powers, causing others to lose their lives in their foolish attempts to cast a Forbidden Spell. As you can see, the casting of the spell has done nothing to me. I am neither dead nor weakened." He realized what he said and let out another chuckle. "But then again, who was to say I was alive in the first place?" 

"Whoever you may be, you talk in strange riddles. I do not know if I can trust you," Draco said, disbelief coloring his tone. 

Farrely was busy turning the spell around to face Voldemort and Malfoy. Hearing Draco's words, he turned back to him and sneered. "It is entirely your choice to trust me or not. But whichever decision you make, it will not be easy." 

"Enlighten me on this matter," Draco told him, very curious now. 

"Very well, then," Farrely said. He stepped away from them all and raised his hands. "Divulgis Identis," he muttered and a blinding light flashed. Draco winced and covered his eyes momentarily. When the light had subsided, he turned to look at the unfamiliar person in the room. 

He was tall, with an arrogant expression on his face. He was wearing maroon robes of a heavy velvety material, and he had the bearing of a great monarch. Long white hair fell over his shoulders, and nearly as long was the beard. Above his brow, there seemed to be a circlet of pure white energy. In his hand, he carried a golden scepter. The scepter was magnificent, silver and gold strands intertwining around glass orbs of different sizes and colors. The largest orb, of a deep red color, sat on top of the scepter. Light glinted off of it in an ominous way, making him feel terror of unimaginable magnitude. 

A deep voice jolted him out of his thoughts. "I am Eldam, Supreme Vallamir of the Immortals." He glanced down at Draco. "I am one of the Higher Vallamirs. We are often called the soldiers of chaos. They are carefully chosen and trained since their adolescence by the Three Supremes, until they are ready to defend the Planes." 

"There are four planes that each have their level of supremacy. One is the Mortal, or Muggle, Plane. Then there is the Magickal Plane, where you dwell. Then the two Supernatural planes of Chaos and Order." 

"The opposite, or the balance, of the Vallamir, is the Gallendir. They are soldiers of order. They dwell on the Plane of Order and serve the Entities of Order, who are the Immortal equivalent of the Entities of Chaos. Can you still keep up with me?" 

Draco nodded, interest seeping into his features. 

"As a human, you can only stay on the Mortal Plane. If you are a witch or a wizard or any being that possesses magical abilities, you can stay on the Magickal Plane and the Mortal Plane. But if you are a Vallamir, a Gallendir, a soldier of order, or an Immortal, you can travel on all the Planes, including the Supernatural Planes. But if you are a Vallamir, you will mostly live on the Plane of Chaos, serving the Entities of Chaos, in the land of destruction and evil. Oh no," he said quickly, seeing the look of disgust cross the spoiled face of Draco. "It is not at all what you picture. It may be quite sinister-looking and dark, but nonetheless very comfortable." 

"So if you live there, why are you here?" Draco persisted. "Why trouble yourselves with the lives of Mug-er, Mortal men? Surely you have better things to do than stay around here." 

Eldam's gaze darkened, "Yes I know. But once you are assigned a mission, you are expected to fulfill it. I have been working on the Vial of Immortality mission for several centuries now, with little success. I enlisted myself under this Lord Voldemort because I had heard he had several leads on the matter. But since you," he glared at Draco, "Released her, my chance to steal the necklace from her was lost." 

"The Immortals long to have the Potion of Divinity in their possession. Though they cannot open it, equilibrium of the Planes must be maintained. We must have it in our possession before the Eve of Destruction, where an innocent, held under the control of a Power, is prophesized to drink the Potion. They bid me to be hasty, for the Year of Destruction is soon and cataclysm draws near." 

"The damn potion can't be opened? Why the bloody hell not?" 

Eldam raised an eyebrow, "Language, young Malfoy." 

"I can say whatever bloody thing I want to say!" he snarled, enraged. "You mean we're going through all this trouble for a piece of crap that won't even work?!" 

"The Immortals want the Vial; I have no right to question them." 

"This is bloody rich," Draco muttered. "It cannot be opened at all? 

"There is always a way," Eldam theorized, giving him a half-smile. "Only the unfortunate alchemist's accomplice or any of his living family members will know the spell that can unlock the vial. It is said that when the latest generation of his kindred came of age, words would appear on their bodies, which would be part of the spell. The words will only be seen in the moonlight." 

"Your 'Lord' was not thinking of that little tidbit when he ordered me to kidnap Miss Granger. All he thought about was getting the vial, not about how to get it to open. Even if Miss Granger gave it up, he would still not be able to open it." 

"Why are you telling me all this?" Draco asked quietly. 

Eldam smiled, a genuine smile this time, "Two reasons, young Malfoy. One is because you have been quite persistent with your questions. Second, is because I would like to make a proposition. Would you like to train on the Supernatural planes to be a Vallamir?" 

Draco raised his eyebrow, "Pardon?" 

"You are free to decline of course," Eldam said, "Because it is not an easy job. You need to be physically fit, mentally able and stealthy and cunning at the same time. You are obliged to fulfill very dangerous tasks, until your death." 

Him? A Vallamir? That thought came as strange to him, yet vaguely exciting. Here he was, being offered the swankiest job in the universe. Him, not Potter. Him, Draco Malfoy of Slytherin House. Him, with his devastating good looks, devil-may-care attitude and, well, mediocre grade point. 

Decline? Hell no! 

Draco opened his mouth to accept the offer, but Aldam held up a hand. "Halt. There is first an important task I must ask you to perform. We Vallamirs are known for expecting people to keep their end of the bargain. Since I have decided not to kill you and recruit you as one of us, you need to do something for me. You live with her at Hogwarts, am I correct? I want you to get the necklace from Hermione Granger and give it to me. It will not be very difficult. Just hit her with the Eradicatos Corem or Avada Kedavra, if the Soul Banisher Curse is too complex for you, then get the necklace." 

Draco's eyes furrowed and Eldam noted a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Do not let emotions run your life, young Malfoy. The mind is more powerful than the heart. Remember that, for it is what you will be learning as a Vallamir. You cannot feel emotions like love or hate; only anger to an extent. You must act upon what is ordered, not of your own free will." 

"Why accept a proposition that binds my life to eternal damnation? I do not wish to suffer." Feelings rushed into Draco's stomach. Shock at the proposition, hesitance at what he was to do, denial at the thought of murdering her... he did not want to. That much was apparent. Though what she did was insulting, he felt that even she did not deserve such a punishment just because she happened to come upon the necklace. 

"Vallamirs do not suffer, young Malfoy. At least, it is not suffering to us. To be given an immense amount of power is a gift, and to repay the Iniquities who bestowed it upon us is only appropriate." 

Draco nodded numbly but in truth, his words passed into one ear and out the other. He was still recalling the words Eldam had said so carelessly. Just hex her with the Eradicatos Corem, or the Avada Kedavra if the Soul Banisher Curse is too complex for you. He didn't want to. He didn't want to be branded as her murderer. God knew he didn't. Yet the way Eldam was looking at him, with his now gray eyes flashing, just daring him to reject the assignment, made him halt. He realized that he had no choice. He never had one. 

"Kill Granger..." he muttered under his breath. The words were embedded into his brain, repeating over and over like a mantra. He had often caught himself drawling those words when he was telling Crabbe and Goyle about his plans to destroy the three Gryffindors, but never actually believing he would put truth into them. And now he was going to. He felt sick to the stomach, like he was about to throw up. He couldn't kill her... could he? 

Of course you can. 

Don't feel sorry about it. 

The swankiest job in the universe. 

Fame and fortune. 

The chance to overcome Potter. 

Throw that all away for a Mudblood? 

You are a fool. 

Remember what she did to you. 

She just wanted to pass the time. 

She hates you. 

She thinks you are to be pitied. 

And she is right. 

You are pitiful. 

Pitiful. 

Absolutely pitiful. 

The words rang into his ears, scalding him with the pain they carried. He nearly gasped at the reality and the finality they brought to him. It was true. It was all true. She was using him as a plaything, as someone to be amused with. She did not mean them. She just thought he was an arrogant bastard. Hadn't she said that only a few hours ago? She hated him. With a passion. With all her heart. The bitch. Had she taken him for a fool? A bloody fool? Well he wasn't going to let this go. Yes he was going to kill her. His own life was far more precious than her own. The world would be better off with one less snotty, arrogant, know-it-all. 

His face hardened. "All right. I will accept your proposition and your task." 

And he would enjoy it. Feeling her life slip away by his own doing. Watch her being slowly ebb away, further ceasing to exist. A malicious thought at how Potter would look when he found out that his best friend was dead entered his mind and he relished it; drove at it; made it his own personal task. It had always been a dream of his to throw Potter down from his throne of fame. And now, he was going to fulfill his dream. 

Eldam smirked, "Very well then, young Malfoy. You shall have a year's time to obtain the necklace. Any sooner will be punishable by death. We will see each other again, young Malfoy, I can assure you that." 

"Indeed we shall," Draco replied. He tilted his head slightly, in respect to the Supreme Vallamir. Eldam nodded back with satisfaction and was relieved to find that the boy had manners. He had thought the boy was all stone and no heart. With the way his father and mother treated him, there was no doubt in his mind that that shaped him to become what he was now. 

"And now," Eldam said. "I must be going. I have to go back to Chaos and report to the Entities about this. I think they will be very relieved that I know where the Potion is. I advise you to run away from this house, because getting caught in the fire will not be very pretty." Draco, nodding mechanically and stepped out of the room, not giving any cares at all to his mother who was going to get killed, nor his father who was going to suffer the wrath of the Entities. He made a quick detour to the secret room of his father's and picked up his Hogwarts trunk in the closet along the hallway. Casting a small spell to make it smaller, he inserted it into one of his coat pockets, before making his way to the exit. 

He smirked when he had passed through the front door. Not so tough now, aren't you Father? You shouldn't have hurt me like that this morning Mother. You should have been thinking. You all should have treated me better. You are going to pay. You all are. Draco pocketed his wand and patted the three Gringott's keys in his pocket, which contained the Malfoy fortune, the deeds to his father's land and houses and the Wizarding Stock Exchange papers his father owned. Damn, Draco thought. I'm going to get the swankiest job in the world, the chance to overthrow Potter and still remain bloody wealthy! Was he good, or was he good? He walked down the driveway, taking time to take in the unmoving scenery about him. Where to? The five-star Wizard hotel, The Charm Chateau, which happened to be just down the street. 

Eldam glanced through the window to see Draco strut out the gates after a few minutes. Good. Waving his palm in the air, swirling purple energy massed in the space in front of him, forming a portal to the Plane of Chaos. 

He turned and swept his robe back, but before he did, he gave Voldemort's enraged expression one last smirk. 

"Finite Incantatem." 

A flash of green light. 

AN: There! All done! This took forever to put out! ^_^ But at least I'm done! Salamat friends, classmates...^_^ Sooo... will I continue to pursue this? I will not until I get 30 reviews ^_^ So REVIEW PLEASE!!! 


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